


Fantasy

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Will, Chains, Collars, Corset, Fantasy, Hannibal cares about will, Hannibal is thirsty, I said kinda, I'm like a puppy rn tbh, I'm sorry Im so proud of myself for finally writing a goddam fic, Imaginary blow jobs, Kinda, LOOK AT THIS SHIT I MADE, Like, M/M, Masterbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Will, Smut, Top Hannibal, but he a lil craycray, imaginary, its p short, look - Freeform, or whenever rly, set somewhere between season 1 and the beginning of season two, wet day dreams, yeah its imaginary guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:12:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal makes fanart.</p><p>Then he jacks off to it.</p><p>That's p much it yeah...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, haven't written a fic it 4ever... Hope u enjoy! :3

Hannibal Lector sat at his table, tapping the end of his pencil against the paper that was situated in front of him, almost taunting.

On said paper, was a drawing of his own, it was only half finished, and Hannibal was trying to figure out if he would regret drawing the rest.

On one hand, he was already thinking about it and what harm could it do to put it on paper?

 

But... On the other hand, it was rather disrespectful, rude, and not to mention shameful. 

But, Hannibal wanted to see it. Even in a drawing. Like he said: what harm could it possibly do?  
It wasn't like he would ever see the drawing. Hannibal would be sure to shred or even burn the paper after he was done... Perhaps even both.

 

Hannibal's throat clicked as his hand practically moved out of its own accord, back to work on the drawing.  
So far, it was only the outline, so far, it'd be impossible to tell who it is other than the figure most likely being a man. But, with a few strokes of his pencil, it starts to become more obvious, and the obviousness becomes more and more clear the more details he adds. 

A well formed, toned, and healthy body. Dark facial hair that was more than stubble but not by much...  
...And just as dark, short, curly hair...

Hannibal licks his lips, heat in his face rising, he considers stopping, but shakes his head. He could always blame it on too much wine.

Next, the lips. Attractive and adorable. Next came the nose and Hannibal didn't forget the small bump on the bridge of it. 

And then, the eyes: tired, but oh so full of potential!  
Hannibal grins despite himself. 

He bites his upper lip. And next... The clothing... The reason he had drawn this to begin with... 

Thigh high black leggings with pink frills, heels with the same color scheme.  
A corset.  
Black panties, the outline of his erect cock was visible. You could see every curve and bend...  
He has a collar around his neck, a chain leash was connected to it, and the other end was attached to the floor.

His hands were in a very similar situation: in the drawing holds one hand to his hip, and the other is tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

 

William. 

 

In the picture, the empath is on his knees, jutting his chest forward, his back arched. His left eyebrow is raised slightly, almost like he's challenging Hannibal. Sultry. Wanton. And Hannibal wants— needs this. 

Hannibal stares at the drawing. In his mind, he sees it move, speak, present... 

Dr. Lector sighs and forces himself to look away. He sits back in his chair and moves his hand down his front to reach his fly.  
He undoes the boton and pulls down the zipper. 

Carefully, the man pulls his aching cock out, and gives it a lazy stroke. He sighs in relief.

Will. Will chained under the table, in the corset, heels, panties, thigh highs, it all. 

 

Hannibal closes his eyes and throws his head back as he imagines William's hands caressing his thighs, placing a kiss to the side of Hannibal's member, and then, moving his hand to the other side as he licks a stripe up it. 

Hannibal moans as he acts out the sensations using his own hands.

Will would smile and give him a few eager strokes before finally taking the head into his mouth. He'd pull back the foreskin and swirl his tongue around the sensitive tip. 

In Hannibal's mind, he pushes Will's head down, further into his warm and wet mouth, making an equally wet noise. Will hums and bobs his head, Hannibal strokes himself in time. 

"Oh Will," he whispers, as the imaginary Will starts bobbing his head faster, making lewd and wet suction noises that Hannibal can't help but love. 

Hannibal's breathing is ragged. 

Will is stroking what isn't in his mouth.

It's too much.

"William!—"  
Will increases the speed, forcing loud moans to escape Hannibal's throat.  
Heat pooling in his lower abdomen the pleasure Will is giving him. 

Hannibal cums hard. 

 

In reality, he cums into his his hand.

But in fantasy, a perfect world, he cums down Will Graham's throat, and Will gulps it all down eagerly. 

Will gives his cock one last carress, rubbing up against it with his cheek, affectionately. 

He gives the side a kiss before the imaginary empath crawls backwards, hiding himself underneath the table, and disappears. 

 

Hannibal sits at the table, panting. 

His tongue is hanging out of his mouth and there is drool sliding down his chin.  
Semen on his hands. 

He steals a quick glance at the drawing before shutting his eyes once more, brings his hand to his lips, and licks it off, imagining it was Will's. 

Once Hannibal catches his breath, he stands up, and sets off to clean up the mess he made. 

 

After cleaning the last of the cum off the table top, Hannibal Lector grabs the drawing of Will, and walks upstairs to his bedroom. 

He sets the drawing on the bed as he changes into his sleepwear, sneaking glances at it when he could. 

Hannibal sits on the edge of the bed as he adjusts the hem of his pajama pants, and looks at the drawing of Will in the outfit.

He smiles. 

One day, this fantasy would become real, and it will be superior to how Hannibal imagined it.  
Hannibal is certain of it.

He decides didn't want to destroy the drawing, at least not yet.  
So he slides it into a drawer, turns off the light, and slides into bed.

He holds a pillow and sighs happily.

 

"My Will."

**Author's Note:**

> He's going to find those someday, Hannibal. U kno it.


End file.
